A Night To Remember, or Why Hermione Didn't Drink
by macawtopia
Summary: Then, a drunk Hermione turned to him urgently, and with the utmost seriousness in her voice, she proclaimed, "Ronnie, when I regain my conscious thought abilities, I'm going to jinx you to jelly for this. Would you prefer to be strawberry or blueberry?"
1. Bloody Gnomes

It was one of those muggy summer evenings when the setting sun had not _quite_ slipped past the horizon yet, and you could still feel its lingering, orange, rays attempting to raise the humid air's temperature one final degree before disappearing altogether.

The air was so hot and heavy that it actually seemed to impair one's movement, and if a person spent any more than five minutes outside, their clothes and hair were sure to start sticking to them uncomfortably. And Ron, unfortunately, had been outside since noon. He, Harry, Fred and George had all been given the distasteful assignment of clearing the Burrow's yard of gnomes for Bill and Fleur's upcoming wedding, and this had been no small feat: the only way to get rid of gnomes was manually.

Well, it _had_ been almost fun at first; chasing the gnomes around, catching them, swinging them around in the air above their heads and then seeing who could toss them the farthest, but after about two hours of working directly under the scorching sun and still having what seemed like infinite little knobby pests running about, the work had become more than tedious. The fact that the gnomes knew an impressive array of choice swear words also didn't help. So, deciding that they simply couldn't stand the thought of spending the entire day in the yard, the boys had come up with a compromise; they would divide the rest of the day into four quarters, and each boy would work for one of these time slots while the others could do whatever they wanted.

It had seemed like a very good plan at the time, actually. Ron had been given the last time slot, and spent the day playing one on one Quidditch with Ginny, chess with his father, and relaxing. But now that it was his turn, he had to slog all over the yard searching for any lingering monstrosities while everyone else prepared for bed. Yes, life had started to seem very cruel to the redhead, and he was feeling rather sorry for himself. After all, _how _was it fair that he had to spend his last few days before the life threatening Horcrux hunt… chasing _gnomes_?

Finally, after determining that the yard was probably as gnome-free as it was ever going to get, Ron decided to turn in; a thoroughly inviting prospect as it was now pitch black outside and well past 10:00.

He was exhausted and sweaty, so the shower he took as soon as he entered the Burrow was heaven; the cold water completely relaxing his tired flesh. Then, he changed into his maroon pajama bottoms and a comfortable Chudley Cannons t-shirt, and climbed a few more flights of stairs to his room, where Harry was already asleep.

Asleep, but not serene. Ron's friend seemed to emanate stress even in his sleep; as if he were ready to get up and fight the dark forces at a moment's notice. Some people would find having this sort of constant tension unbearable, but Ron was used to it, as Harry hadn't seemed truly relaxed for more than a moment since Dumbledore's death.

Ron, on the other hand, felt that he'd earned a bit of a break, and therefore, he decided that there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to grab some cold milk and a chocolate chunk cookie before bed. So, he meandered down from his tiny attic bedroom, relishing the familiar feel of the Burrow's worn wooden stairs against his bare feet, and allowed himself to think only of the warm, tender cookie which awaited him at the bottom.

The entire house was dark and quiet, except for the soft hooting of numerous owls, periodic _thunk_s which were courtesy of the ghoul, and the standard creaking noises of the Burrow at night. And as Ron listened to these noises, noises which sane people found annoying but he only found comforting, he was suddenly struck by an overwhelming sense of loss.

This was his home, the place which held almost as many beautiful memories for him as Hogwarts, and he was about to leave it far behind for who knew how long. Perhaps he'd never get to see it again at all, …

Ron had never felt more attached to the ramshackle house. He loved the house and it loved him. In fact, it loved him so much that as he walked down the hall towards the Burrow's kitchen, it turned the kitchen lights on for him all by itself.

_Aw, bless you, kitchen. You've never done that for me before; I usually have to magic mum's ancient oil lamps on myself! I'm __so __sorry that I let a bludger loose in here when I was ten, and that I never bothered to properly appreciate your applian-_

_Wait, what am I _saying_? Kitchens don't turn their own lights on… bloody hell, there's an incompetent Death Eater playing with the lamps in my kitchen! _

For a moment, Ron's sleep deprived mind started panicking and wondering where he'd left his wand, and then he realized that Death Eaters did _not_ invade houses merely to play with kitchen lights, _and_ that the Burrow was too well protected to be penetrated so easily. So, he came to the natural conclusion that someone else was still awake, and it was them, not the Death Eaters, who had turned on the lights.

Still, Ron stumbled into the kitchen apprehensively, squinting tightly and blinking hard as his eyes adjusted from the dark hallway to the bright room. Then, to his extreme surprise, he heard a quiet sniffling that sounded vaguely like, "Hermione?"

Eyes still almost shut, he tried to scan the room for his friend, and found a blur sitting in the general direction of the kitchen table which looked rather promising. "Is that you?" Ron asked softly.

Hermione didn't respond, but by then Ron's pupils had contracted enough that he could see her properly. She was indeed sitting at the table, and facing away from him, barefoot as well but still wearing the forest green t-shirt and blue jeans that she'd donned that morning. Her hair was a loose cloud around her shoulders; made even bushier by the humid weather, and her face was buried in her hands. Worryingly, Ron could hear light sobs coming from her direction.

Now, if Ron had been more awake, he would have tried to remember if there was a section in _Twelve Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ on crying girls, and acted on it. As it was, he hadn't a clue what to do, and merely sat down next to her, trying in vain to become more alert without physically slapping himself awake in front of Hermione. After a moment of uncertainly, Ron finally spoke:

"Are… you alright, Hermione?"

Extracting her face from her hands, she looked up at him through puffy red eyes. When she saw his look of somewhat groggy concern, she hastily wiped her face of tears, "Of _course_ I am, Ron. Go to bed."

_There's nothing I'd like to do more 'Mione; I'm dog-tired. But I can't leave you like this…_

"Hermione, I'm not sleepy-"

"Of course you are; you've been out all day. _Go_."

Hermione looked determined, but Ron didn't care. With a sigh, he merely put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Look Hermione, I may not be as good with emotions as you, or Harry, or even a warty-arsed garden gnome for that matter, but I _can_ tell when my best friend's feeling miserable, and you, _are_."

She shook her head, "It's nothing, _really_. I'm just being silly."

"You? _Silly_? Not bloody likely", Ron offered a hesitant smile, "What's really wrong?" Then he was struck by a thought, "It's not a, you know - er… _girl_ thing, is it?"

"No no, it's nothing like that. It's just…" and Hermione cracked, unable to hold her emotions in any longer; "I can't _believe_ that this has all happened this fast! If someone had told me a year ago that by now You Know Who would have gotten this far… Not that I'm saying it's hopeless, because of course I believe in Harry, but… My parents… my _parents_ don't know that I exist, and I might never see them again! And I'll never graduate from Hogwarts, never see my home…"

She was trembling, tears were streaming from her eyes again, and Ron was desperately wishing that he had taken an earlier shift with the bloody gnomes so that he could be more awake for this. Hermione looked as though she'd been bottling her feelings up for weeks, and was only now letting go to a person whom she absolutely trusted: him. And all he could seem to think about was how terribly annoying it was that every time he closed his eyes he saw gnomes dancing a conga…

_Focus, Weasley; do _not_ let your head nod like that… _

_But mmm… Hermione's hair would make a charming pillow. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I just leaned over and-_

_Wake UP!_

Hermione, oblivious to Ron's internal struggle, continued gushing; "And _Merlin_, I know that this is all completely necessary, but I just wish I had some more, I don't know, _assurance_. I wish I could see the future, and know for _certain_ that no one I love will get hurt and that You Know Who will lose. I just wish I could have some sort of proof that everything we've done, and everything we're going to try to do, won't be in vain."

Hermione looked at him through damp eyes, and Ron had an overwhelming urge to wipe the tears from he cheeks, hold her close and whisper into her ear that he would never let anything happen to her, but he wasn't sure how she'd react to that. So, he just put a careful arm around her, "Well, Hermione, if you _really_ wanted to see the future, you wouldn't have dropped Divination. I mean, _I _didn't, and look where I am."

Hermione looked up at him questioningly, "Where are you?"

Ron shrugged, "I haven't the foggiest; but... please don't cry, Hermione."

And to his astonishment, she did stop crying. But the sadness was still there in her eyes, and it made Ron's heart lurch uncomfortably. After taking a moment to let her breathing slow back to normal, she looked at him, "I'm… sorry about that, Ron, I didn't mean to lose it so completely… Gosh I must look like Cho Chang!" She rubbed her red eyes self consciously, "I just miss my parents _so_ much…"

Hermione looked away, and Ron realized that she was waiting for him to leave so that she could sniffle to herself some more. To him, this seemed like a horrible idea, and he hated the thought of her left alone to her own miserable thoughts. Consequently, he decided that it was his duty as a best friend to take her mind off things, no matter how loud his warm, soft bed's siren song was at the moment.

"Er, Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Normally I'd never suggest this, but I've an idea."

This succeeded in grabbing Hermione's full attention, "What sort of idea?"

"An idea that's going to keep you from brooding like this all night."

Eyes still damp, but curious, Hermione contemplated this, "Is it… something I'll regret in the morning?"

"Most likely."

Hermione arched a brow, but then sighed, "Well, why not. Anything's better than _this_", she gestured towards her tear stained face.

Ron nodded in agreement, "Great, I'll be right back." And he climbed up the Burrow's crooked stairwell to his room, from which he emerged mere minutes later, having exchanged his pajama bottoms for a pair of black jeans and running shoes. He then gestured for Hermione to get her own sandals from the corner and put them on, which she apprehensively did. And as she started on her left sandal's buckle, Ron braced himself for what he was about to attempt.

_Alright, Ron, you can do this…don't think, just do it!_

Hermione, for her part, also had butterflies in her stomach. But what she was feeling wasn't nerves or excitement; it was more complex then that.

She inexplicably felt as if she were Alice from Wonderland and Ron was her white rabbit, leading her from misery to a mysterious new place. A place which she knew nothing about, but which her heart ached to see. And like Alice, she was overwhelmingly curious as to where her rabbit would take her; what exactly did Ron have in mind? Whatever it was, Hermione had a gut feeling that it would be something she'd never forget.

"So, we're going outside?" She asked, pulling on her right sandal.

Ron's lifted an eyebrow, "More or less." He appeared confident, but he felt anything but.

_Hermione… you're gonna completely freak out, but this is for your own good. _

Hermione frowned, "What does that m-"

But before she could finish her sentence, Ron had already wrapped an arm around her, spun around, and Hermione felt the familiar sensation of being sucked through a narrow airless tube, and then released on the other side; Ron had just apparated to some unknown location, and taken her with him.

=]

The first thing Hermione felt was the cooling night air which the day's heat had finally given into. Ron had taken her outside somewhere, to a deserted field of tall, unkempt grass which looked slightly grey in the bright moonlight. There was a light breeze, and it felt good on her flushed, tear stained cheeks.

Then she remembered that it was Ron who'd apparated, and checked her body for any missing parts. After having made sure that she was whole and healthy, she turned to her companion, not sure whether to be angry or impressed;

"Ron! You've never done Side-Along apparition before; you could have spliced us both! Not to mention the fact that you're half _asleep_."

His spare hand flew to the back of his head to scratch it awkwardly, "Er, yeah… I know…" He was standing very close to her, and his wand arm was still wrapped firmly around her, as if he'd forgotten he'd put it there after apparating. Or perhaps he'd left it there on purpose…. For some reason, this flustered Hermione, so that instead of telling Ron that she was stunned by how perfect his apparition had become, she frowned, "Well… _where_ are we anyways? I don't think I've ever been here before."

He suppressed a yawn, "I don't think so either."

"How helpful, Ronald."

He blinked at her, then, "Oh! Right, erm… follow me."

Ron removed his arm from her shoulders – leaving her colder and with an incomprehensible sense of deep dissatisfaction- and turned to lead her through the grassland towards a faint light that she could barely make out. It looked like a tiny star on the horizon, but as they approached it Hermione realized that the light was coming from a little wooden building with a large window.

As they got even closer, Hermione could see the door of the building, and a large carved sign above it which read, _The Stranded Phoenix_, and she finally understood what was going on.

She stopped walking and grabbed Ron's arm to stop him too. "A pub. You've brought me to a _pub_?"

Her eyes bored into his disapprovingly, in a way that was frighteningly similar to his own mother's stare; Ron swallowed hard, "It, er, seemed like a good idea… but now I'm not so sure…"

Lowering her voice to a harsh whisper, Hermione glared, "But we're in the middle of a _war_! That place could be _crawling_ with You Know Who's informants, and they all know who we are, this is _dangerous_!"

Ron shook his head, "I don't _think_ it should be. I mean, it _is _a muggle place."

"_What_?"

"Well, it's _owned _by a family of wizards –Fred and George reckon they're half leprechaun, actually – but they mostly serve the local muggles. My Uncle Billius discovered them, and hardly any other wizards know about '_the Phoenix'_."

Hermione took a moment to consider this, then said, "I suppose it _should_ be safe then... but I still don't think we should go."

"Why not?"

Hermione sighed, "Ron, you _are_ aware that I never drink, aren't you?"

Looking slightly crestfallen that his brilliant plan to make Hermione feel better had failed, Ron asked, "Never?"

"Never", Hermione replied with conviction.

For a moment, Ron looked at a loss. Then, he perked up, "Well…as you always say, you should never hesitate to try anything new, right?"

Sighing once more, Hermione shook her head, "I was _talking_ about taking new subjects. To _learn_ new things."

Ron shrugged, "It's still _your_ ideology."

"But drinking is really horrible for-"

"Hermione, this is the _wizarding_ world. You know perfectly well that magical liquor isn't harmful; we've fixed that."

"Yes… but when I said you should never hesitate to try new things, I _meant_ that –"

"So, you're saying that you only follow your own rules when it's _convenient_. I expected more of you, Hermione Granger."

Ron shook his head at her solemnly, and Hermione had to laugh as she realized that she didn't have any more arguments to prevent going to the pub. "_Ron_… I do believe you've just defeated me in a battle of wits!"

He grinned, "Always the tone of surprise. But now that I've won, you _have _to come in with me, alright?" Ron spoke with confidence, but Hermione could see the uncertainty in his eyes. They were softly pleading with her to agree with him, and she couldn't resist.

_And so Alice tumbled down the rabbit hole, chasing her destiny…_

Giving in and smiling back, Hermione consented, "Alright, let's go. I mean, how bad could it be, right?"


	2. Dragon Spit

Inside the pub it was toasty, but not too warm thanks to a small fire in the far corner. The place was also nice and full of other people, all of whom looked like older, oblivious muggles who had come in search of respite from their jobs and the grey, misty misery which the Dementors had spread throughout Europe.

There were also a few scattered couples, but they too were minding their own business, so Ron and Hermione had all the privacy they needed as they selected a corner table near the window. And they didn't have to wait long before a short but cheery looking wizard with a pointed red beard approached them with a grin, "Evenin' to ya both!"

They both wished him a good evening back, and he turned to Hermione, "So, what'll it be then, lass?"

Hermione faltered, unsure what she should try, but she needn't have worried; Ron ordered for her. "She'll have a Golden Feather, and I'll have some Dragon's Spit, please.

"Ah! Now there's a lad who knows what's best for his lassie!" the man said, winking at Hermione, "I'll be right back."

The second he left, Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow at Ron, "And what, pray tell, is a Golden Feather?"

Ron shrugged, "Its mum's favorite, and I really like it too. It's a watered down firewhisky with chilled butterbeer, vanilla ice cream and a bit of honey blended together; it'll make you feel better. Er, most likely, anyway."

Hermione smiled; it did sound rather delicious if she ignored the firewhiskey part.

"Alright. I'll suppose I'll just go against _all_ of my better instincts and trust your judgment."

Ron looked deeply offended, "Aw come on, listening to me can't go against _all _of your instincts! I've been known to make _some_ good choices, you know." He paused, then cocked his head to one side, inspecting her, "Besides, there's got to be a wild side inside you somewhere…"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Right. And you've got a quiet studious side as well, I'm sure."

Ron grinned smugly, "Naturally. Does the word 'Prefect' ring any bells?"

Just as Hermione was about to make a teasing retort, the waiter returned, tray in hand, "Here y'are. Enjoy!" And with that, he left them to their drinks.

For a moment, Hermione just eyed her caramel coloured drink suspiciously. Then she took a tiny sip, and was pleased to see that it was every bit as tasty as she'd hoped it'd be. And as for the firewhiskey, it was so watered down that it just added a faint spark, a tiny kick to her drink. So, she took another big gulp, savoring the way the thick, creamy liquid slid down her throat.

After sighing with pleasure, and feeling thoroughly glad that she came, she remembered Ron and the curious name of the ruby red drink in front of him.

"Er, Ron? You're not drinking _actual_ Dragon's Spit, are you?"

"Well… only a bit." He grinned mischievously, and Hermione could tell that he was already more awake thanks to his strong beverage. And the way he brushed his mussed up ginger locks from his mirthful blue eyes (it wasn't _fair_ that his eyes were so beautiful, it really wasn't!) made Hermione briefly forget their conversation topic altogether. But only briefly…

"Ron!...that's disgusting!"

Ron couldn't help but laugh at Hermione's horrified expression, "Don't worry, I was joking! Dragon's Spit is just a strong firewhiskey with wine. This is my first time trying it, actually…"

His slightly embarrassed look told Hermione that Ron had probably been forbidden _to_ try it, and she started to worry; she wasn't sure if she could handle a drunken Ron… what if he started going wild? Or started making advances on her?

A sudden vivid image flashed across her drink addled mind, of an intoxicated Ron overpowering her and pinning her against the pub wall, one of his rough hands slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to stroke the bare skin of her side and the other holding her head in place while he let his mouth and hot tongue swirl intricate patterns at the nape of her neck…

_Actually, that doesn't sound so bad…it sounds rather magnificent, really …_

_Wait, __what__?_

"Er, Hermione?"

She almost jumped as a concerned looking Ron called her name. "Are you alright? You sort of… zoned out. That's not too strong for you, is it?"

Blushing fiercely and looking anywhere but at her companion, Hermione managed to mumble, "No, no of course it isn't."

Looking unconvinced, Ron shrugged, "Alright. D'you want another, then?"

"Another?" And sure enough, when Hermione looked down she saw that her drink was practically finished. The sight of the empty glass saddened her greatly; it had been so _good_…

Oh, why not? After all, Ron _had_ said that her drink had been watered down, so what could one more hurt? She was lost in Wonderland now, after all.

"Yes please."

=D

Now Ron knew why Hermione never drank; two glasses of one of the pub's softest drinks and she was swaying in her chair.

Then she'd rocked her chair onto its back legs, her knees pressed against the wobbly wooden table to keep herself from falling. And now she was laughing maniacally.

"What is it?" Ron asked, while carefully placing the legs of her chair back onto the sturdy floor.

Hermione giggled, "That look on your face; it's priceless! Even better than when I set those birds on you last year."

Her blithe grin annoyed Ron to no end. "Well, you can't _blame_ me for looking worried; I thought you'd fall right out of your chair and break your skull!", he spluttered.

This only earned him another giggle, "But if I _did_ fall, wouldn't you catch me?"

Now Ron frowned, confused by the question, "Of course I-"

More peals of blissful laughter; "_That_ face is funny too!"

Ron sighed, and Hermione suddenly sat up straight in her chair, "Look, Ron! Lockhart!"

She pointed towards another table, where a lone man was sitting. He wore a tattered grey cloak and his hood was up, but he had raggedy blond hair and features which vaguely resembled those of their old DADA teacher. However, this man had an entirely different demeanor; he was an unsocial loner who was drinking heavily. Not the sort of man who seemed like he wanted to have a giggling girl proclaim that he was a washed up celebrity who was known to live at St. Mungo's.

"Er, no, Hermione; that's _not_ Lockhart. Now… now why don't you stop waving at him, _alright_?"

Shrugging, Hermione let her hand fall to her side, and she resumed swaying side to side in her chair while loudly humming _Kiss Me_.

By now, Ron was starting to wonder whether introducing Hermione to firewhiskey had been a horrible idea or not, and was considering apparating her back to the Burrow. But then she'd probably refuse to sleep and make a racket; and he'd get in major trouble with everyone for corrupting the only good girl of the house.

She seemed rather unconcerned, though, as she hummed to herself. Then, she turned to him urgently, and with the utmost seriousness in her voice, she proclaimed, "Ronnie, when I regain my conscious thought abilities, I'm going to jinx you to _jelly_ for this. Would you prefer to be strawberry or blueberry?"

Ron, who had been taking a sizable swig of his Dragon's Spit, choked. Then, eyes streaming, he managed to say "Don't you think that's going just a _tad _too far? I'm sure I'd taste awful on toast…"

"Don't be ridiculous, you'd be _delicious_." She licked her lips, and Ron couldn't help but noticed how glossy and enticing they looked in the firelight.

"Er…"

Ron swallowed hard, but Hermione completely ignored him, careening onto another train of thought. Taking a glance at the hooded figure across from them, she asked, "Did I _really_ have a crush on _Lockhart_?"

Much relieved that she had dropped the jelly issue, Ron shook his head vehemently, "Er, no, not at all. No."

"_Good job_, Ronnie!" Hermione gave him a dazzling smile, but Ron grimaced; "Don't call me Ronn-"

"I _didn't_ like him, but d'you remember Viktor Krum?"

Not at all sure where Hermione was going with her arbitrary questions, Ron let out an exasperated groan, "Of _course_ I do, now how about we get you out of-"

"Well, I didn't like him either." Hermione ploughed on, ignoring the irritated redhead, "But he was the first person who ever liked _me_. He made me feel so _special_!"

Hermione was talking very loudly now, and she'd practically squealed the word 'special' at him. Ron was more than a little frightened.

Suddenly Hermione's thoughts shifted again, as if she were a television set which couldn't seem to stay put on any one channel, "Hey, let me have some of your _Dragon's Spit_, Ronnie."

Ron was only just able to save his glass as she reached over to grab it off the table. He moved it back, out of her reach, and then he looked up and saw her pouting in a very un-Hermionish but adorable way. Her face was flushed from the heat of the room, and her mouth now looked rose petal soft, unbearably moist and inviting. Ron involuntarily swallowed again, hard.

Thankfully, when the pouting failed to get him to give her his drink, Hermione gave up on it and rolled her eyes, "Come _on_ Ron! I'm drinking for _courage!"_

_Courage? Why would she… oh!_

"Hermione, is this about helping Harry? Because you don't need to be afraid. We're going to stick together, and everything will be fine, I promise. I mean, we got him here, didn't we? Even though You Know Who knew exactly when we'd move Harry from the Dursley's, we got him here safely."

But instead of reassuring Hermione, Ron's words seemed to amuse her, somehow. "You haven't a clue where this is going, _do_ you Ronald?"

Now completely lost, Ron threw his hands up in the air, "Where _what_ is going?"

"Hey Ronnie, have I ever told you that blue's my favorite colour?"

_Bloody, __bloody__ hell…I never thought the day would come when I'd find Hermione more irritating than gnomes…_

"No. Now-"

"It used to be green, actually, until I fell in love with the most _amazing_ pair of blue eyes…" She stared off into the distance dreamily, and Ron buried his face in his hands, surrendering to her madness. "Yeah? Well I like-"

"Red. I know Ronald."

Ron looked up, "But I never told-"

"I've known you for six years, Ron", Hermione said, her voice suddenly much softer, "I know everything about you."

Ron raised an eyebrow, "You know, some people would find that sort of sentence unnerving. It's the sort of line they'd use in muggle horror films..."

Still looking more sober than she had in awhile, Hermione blinked gravely, "Do _you_ find it unnerving?"

"Well no", Ron started, "I-"

"How about this, d'you find _this_ unnerving?"

Hermione had reached up to let her soft fingers tips brush past Ron's elbow, and then she slowly let them glide up his bare arm, light as a feather and making his skin tingle.

Swallowing hard, Ron mumbled, "Hermione, I think you've had too much to drink."

Again, she ignored him, and her fingers trailed past his shoulder and around his neck to rest on the other side, then pull him closer. Her other hand made its way down from Ron's chest to his stomach, where it drew sensual circles.

"Hot it here, isn't it?" Ron croaked, his ears bright pink. It was all the teenage boy could do not to moan as Hermione's careful fingers caressed his front, and laced his thoughts with desire.

Finally, Hermione tangled her free fingers in Ron's ginger mop, and turned his head so that their eyes were locked on each other, "Ron, _you_ have blue eyes. And you make me feel special without even trying."

He just nodded vacantly, so Hermione gave him a significant look and those mesmerizing blue eyes went wide with realization. "Oh _blimey_… are you trying to say that –"

"Yes. I am."

And then Hermione leaned in and kissed Ron delicately, gently urging his mouth to move with hers. This he did gladly, in awe of how wonderfully her warm, caramel flavored breath and soft lips caressed his own. He kissed her passionately, leaning in and letting out the desire he'd been holding in for years, and Hermione melted into his arms. Ronald Weasley, _her_ Ron, was kissing her, and it was better than she'd ever imagined. Oh, she was _lost_… his kisses had rendered her mind completely free of _everything_ in a way that not even the alcohol had been able to…

Until Ron broke away and looked back at Hermione, horrified. "Oh, bloody, bloody _hell_! What am I _doing_…?"

Hermione felt her heart start to break, barely listening as Ron said, "Look Hermione, that was probably the best moment of all my seventeen years… but you're not in your right mind right now, and –"

Hermione's heart instantly repaired itself, and soared, "Oh Ron! I'm not doing this because I'm sloshed… you have no idea how long I've _dreamed_ of kissing you." Her eyes went hazy as she recalled those dreams and realized that none of them had compared to the real thing.

As for Ron, he wore the same expression he had when Harry first kissed Ginny; he looked as if he'd recently taken a bludger to the head, and _hard._ Then a wildly happy grin broke out on his face, "Really?" Hermione nodded, and he said, "That's _excellent_! But blimey, Hermione, you could've just _told _a bloke you liked him. I mean, it would have saved us both loads of trouble, don't you think?"

But Hermione merely laughed, and leaned in for Ron to kiss her again. And again. Now that they had finally come together, it was impossible for them to get enough of each other.

But then, just as their kisses were getting rather too deep for a public area, a small voice cut into their reverie, asking, "Another Dragon's Spit, sir?"

Ron and Hermione jumped apart with a start, and just stared at the short wizard in complete shock. He, for his part, was grinning impishly at them, and holding a full bottle over Ron's empty glass. Apparently, he didn't in the least mind interrupting busy couples, a fact which neither Ron nor Hermione were very happy about.

"Er… no thanks." Ron mumbled after a quick look at Hermione, "Could you… er… bring us the bill, maybe?"

As the short wizard hurried of to do just that, the young witch and wizard didn't say a word to each other. But, they did share a look, and the look said it all: "_We can't be doing this right now. We've got something else to finish first_."

In the end, Ron broke the eye contact by swallowing and pulling some money from his pocket to pay for the liquor. Then they left the pub and apparated back to the hill beside the Burrow. And as they made their way towards the building, the effects of the drinks began to wear off; the cool air cleared their heads, and the seriousness of the night's events began to sink in. After a long period of silence, Hermione finally spoke:

"Ron?"

"Yes, I'm Ron. And you're Hermione, right?"

She shot him a look that was half annoyed and half amused, "Not now, Ron – I"

"So, you're not Hermione _now_? When will you be?"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Hermione turned to face him, "Ron, if you'll please be sensible for a moment I'll much appreciate it."

Ron's eyebrows flew to his hairline, "_You_, the girl who was too drunk to remember her own name a few moments ago, want _me_ to be sensible?"

She turned to him, "Yes!" she cried out, then she mockingly added, "And you're just as bad you know, you_ did _take advantage of me."

Then another voice broke in: "He did _what_?"

Startled Ron and Hermione looked up to see that they were now only a few meters from the Burrow, and that Harry was standing just inside the door, gaping at them.

"Harry!" Hermione cried out, thankful that the dark night hid her blush, "What are _you_ still doing awake?"

It was his turn to look uncomfortable, his emerald eyes falling to his shoes, "I, er, got hungry."

"It was another nightmare, wasn't it mate." Ron asked sympathetically, walking up to stand by his bespectacled friend.

Catching on, Hermione reluctantly tore her gaze from Ron to look at Harry, "Oh, please don't tell me that you were in You Know Who's mind again. Didn't I tell you – "

Harry sighed, "Yeah, you did, but I can't very well help it when I'm asleep, can I?" He took a deep breath, and then seemed to remember something, "But… what's this about Ron taking advantage of you?"

"Oh, we were joking, of course. Now, tell me about your dream."

And so, Harry dropped the subject for the night, realizing that Hermione was determined to keep whatever had happened between Ron and her a secret. But, the following morning, he remembered to casually ask his two best friends about where they'd been the night before:

"What are you talking about, Harry? I didn't go _anywhere_ last night."

Harry frowned, "But Ron, I _saw_ you coming back with Hermione."

_And you were both blushing red as tomatoes…_

"I think the pressure's getting to you, mate, perhaps you should retire…"

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, "Why not? I think I'll just go to the Bahamas and wait for this whole Voldemort thing to blow over then, shall I?"

Later, Harry tried asking Hermione about the night before, hoping she'd be more open. But she gave him the exact same answer… and the weird thing was, she looked genuinely confused whenever he brought the subject up. Finally coming to the conclusion that he must have simply had a very vivid dream, Harry soon forgot about it.

In fact, all three of them had completely forgotten it. The only person who managed to remember the event with any clarity at all was a scraggly blond wizard who had been sitting a few tables away from Ron and Hermione and witnessed the whole thing.

Gilderoy Lockhart had almost jumped out of his worn old cloak when he'd noticed his old student Hermione waving at him. Then, he'd received a similar jolt when he saw the redhead sitting next to her.

See, after he'd (_finally_) regained enough of his memory and thought abilities to leave St. Mungo's, he'd kept on having flashes of red in his dreams. He saw patches of a cave, a long snake skin, a bathroom, a broken wand, and always that boy, that flash of red before it all went black. But when he saw Ron now, it all came rushing back, and he knew that this boy and his wand, that this _mere teenager_, was responsible for bringing about his downfall. And he knew what he had to do to get revenge.

He watched them long enough to witness their first kiss, realize that this was probably the happiest night of the miserable ginger's life, and decide that it would be only _too easy_ to erase the night from both young witch and wizard's memory. The _Obliviate_ spell was, after all, his one talent.

And so, the best night of Ron's life was also the only one that he couldn't remember, and never would.

=]

Ah, sorry about the ending there, but I had to make them forget if I wanted to stay consistant with the books. Hope you liked it though, and do review, if you have a moment!


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